The doctor, a man with eyes that held the weariness of countless sleepless nights, looked at Liam. He sat across from Liam, his fingers drumming a steady rhythm against the desk. “So, Mr. Callahan, can you tell me what happened before you found Ms. Isabelle in the bathroom?”
Liam swallowed. His mind was a whirlwind of images Isabelle’s limp body, the chilling emptiness of the bathtub, the frantic call to emergency services. But when it came to what had happened before, a gnawing blankness filled his mind. He felt a tremor of fear, a cold realization that he couldn’t recall anything beyond the moment he’d walked through the door and found her.
“I… I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice hoarse. “I got home, and… she wouldn’t answer. I thought she might have locked herself in the bathroom, and… I found her.”
“Found her in the bathtub?”
“Yes. She was… unconscious. I thought she was drowning.”
The doctor nodded, his gaze thoughtful. “Did she seem distressed when you arrived? Did she indicate any kind of struggle or fear?”
Liam shook his head. “No. She… she was just quiet. Just… there.”
The doctor leaned back, the creak of the chair echoing in the quiet room. “It sounds like she might have experienced a panic attack. It’s possible she locked herself in there and, in the heat of the moment, she didn’t even realize she was filling the bathtub. I’ll need to run some tests, but it’s a very common reaction to trauma.”
Liam’s brow furrowed. “Trauma?”
“Yes.” the doctor said, his tone softening. “Any kind of significant stress or anxiety can trigger panic attacks. Sometimes it’s a reaction to something that happened in the past, something that’s been repressed, and sometimes it’s a response to current anxieties. It’s different for every individual.”
Liam felt a cold dread settling in his stomach. He didn’t know what Isabelle had been through, what secret anxieties were lurking beneath her calm facade. All he knew was that she’d been slipping away from him, piece by piece, and he didn’t know how to pull her back.
“I… I need to know what happened to her.” Liam said, his voice tight.
The doctor sighed. “Mr. Callahan, I understand your concern, but it’s important to be patient. Isabelle needs to be ready to talk about it. Force her to discuss it, and it could only make things worse. For now, we need to focus on her recovery. I’ll prescribe some medication to help with the panic attacks. Just be supportive, and make sure she knows you are there for her.”
Liam took the prescription, his fingers trembling slightly. He knew this wasn’t enough. He needed to understand, needed to know what had driven her to the brink.
The doctor led him to Isabelle’s room. A quiet hum of medical equipment filled the space. Isabelle lay in bed, her eyes gazing at the ceiling, a vacant look in her eyes. The doctor excused himself, leaving Liam alone in the white-walled sanctuary.
He sat beside her, the silence heavy between them. “Isabelle?” He spoke softly, his voice thick with concern.
She turned her head slowly, but her eyes held no recognition. “Liam?”
“Are you alright?” he asked, reaching for her hand.
Her fingers were cool and clammy. “Yes,” she replied, her voice a whisper. “I’m fine.”
Liam knew she wasn’t. He saw the tremor in her hand, the way her eyes darted away from his gaze. “What happened? Tell me.”
“Nothing happened,” Isabelle muttered, her voice barely above a whisper. “It was just… a bad dream. It’s nothing.”
He refused to believe her. “Isabelle, I found you in the bathtub. You were unconscious. It’s not a dream.”
She looked away, her eyes downcast. “It’s nothing you need to worry about,” she said, her voice flat.
“Why don’t you tell me what’s wrong?” he pleaded.
She closed her eyes, her breath coming in shallow gasps. “Please, Liam. It’s okay.”
He saw the pain in her eyes, the fear that she was trying to hide, and he knew that forcing her to talk wouldn’t help. “Alright, Isabelle. We’ll talk later. For now, just rest.”
He leaned down, his lips brushing her forehead in a tender kiss. He had to let her heal, but he couldn’t let go of the knot of anxiety twisting in his gut.
He was about to leave when his phone buzzed. It was Adrian, his tech lead. Liam answered, his voice strained. “Adrian, what’s up?”
“Mr. Callahan, I think I have something big. It might change everything.”
“Adrian, what is it? What did you find?”
“I’ve been looking through Henderson’s emails, and the timestamp on the communication logs showing his supposed conversation with Russo are… off. Someone doctored them.”
Liam’s heart leaped. “Do you mean… they framed Henderson?”
“It looks that way. I’m going to dig deeper, but it looks like… it was an elaborate setup.”
Liam felt a surge of relief, followed by a wave of anger. “Who would do this? Why?”
“I don’t know yet, Mr. Callahan,” Adrian said, his voice hushed. “The emails are very convincing. Whoever planted them knew what they were doing.”
The truth was dawning on Liam. His own company was riddled with moles, and someone was willing to go to extreme lengths to sabotage his project.
“Adrian, I need to see this. Are you still at the office?”
“Yes sir.”
Liam turned back to Isabelle. He had to tell her. “Adrian’s found something. He thinks Henderson was framed. I need to go to the office, but I’ll be back soon. You’ll be okay, right?”
She nodded, her eyes still downcast. The sight of her vulnerability squeezed his heart. He wanted to stay, but he couldn’t, not with this new threat looming.
“I’ll be back, I promise,” he said, kissing her forehead again.
He rushed out of the hospital, the urgency of the situation driving him like a whip. The city lights blurred into streaks of color as he raced through the fading twilight. He had to get to the office, had to see for himself what Adrian had found.
His mind was a tangled mess of thoughts. Henderson was innocent. But who had framed him? And who was the real traitor in his company? And what did it all mean for Project Phoenix?